


The Bouquet

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drabble, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-13
Updated: 2008-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-26 09:52:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10784451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: The bouquet must be perfect this time.





	The Bouquet

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** This has been running through my head so I figured it would be best to let it out.  I seem to have an obsession with this topic lately but I'll run with it and see where it takes me.

Ron took his time, carefully picking through all the flowers laid out in the bin. He smelled each one, held it up to the sun to examine the color and fingered the petals for softness. It never seemed that important before but something in his chest told him he had to make the bouquet perfect this time.

 

The sun was setting behind him as he strolled through the grass. He could feel the cool moisture settling into the cuffs on his trousers. The chilled fall air filled his lungs as he reached the bench. He sat down, holding the bouquet gingerly between his fingers. Exhaling slowly, he closed his eyes and spoke softly, “Hey, beautiful.” 

 

He wasn’t sure where to start. How did one start a conversation like this? Might be best to be direct, he thought. He lowered his eyes to his feet, “there’s something I need to tell you. I’ve met someone else.” Ron proceeded to pour out his heart and soul. He chattered on about life, love, love lost and finding himself again. He laughed and he cried. And when he was emotionally spent, he carefully placed the bouquet in the vase and leaned down to place a gentle kiss on her headstone, whispering, “You know I’ll always love you.”


End file.
